


From the Commander's Journal

by randompandemic



Series: Cullen & Róisín [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-03 22:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4117347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randompandemic/pseuds/randompandemic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen and Ros are getting naughty in the library...</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Commander's Journal

She finds her Commander in the library – that was no surprise. He sits hunched over a book and did not look up when she came in. Her hands behind her back, Ros skips closer until she is behind him, chin on his shoulder to look down into the pages he is working on, noting down in the clean handwriting she was so familiar with.

“What are you doing, love?” she asks. Cullen half turns, pecks a quick, small kiss on her nose and smiles.

“Keeping my journals. I like to write everything down that happens. So in case I I do get dementia…”

He does not finish his sentence. Ros leans her forehead against his temple and tries not to think of it. Of what might happen to him under lyrium withdrawal. SOme days were worse than others. Days where he called her by different names, or did not recognise her at all. Days when his hands shook uncontrollably in meetings in the war room. Nights of him too paranoid to sleep.

She wraps her arms around him and kisses his temple, he leans into the touch of her lips.

“You’re writing about me, too?” she asks cheekily, hoping to lighten the mood of such dire thoughts.

“Ah, most certainly,” he confirms.

“Oh! Tell me what you wrote?” she asks.

“ _She is incredibly curious, a walking, talking distraction, cheats at cards, is terrible at chess…_ ”

She huffs upset and stands back up, hands on her hips and her most scolding glare on her face. Cullen glances back over his shoulder and smirks, then puts down his quill. He pushes his chair back, stands up and with an arm wrapped around her waist, he pulls her towards him. She gasps a little surprised at the sudden – if anything but unpleasant – proximity. He has her caged between his arms and the table, brings his lips to hers. The kiss takes her breath away, turns her knees soft, makes her resolve to tease him crumble away into dust. Turns out she would not be the one doing the teasing today. Her eyes remain closed even after his lips have left hers and started to place gentle kisses along her jaw line, his hands travel up the outside of her thighs, draw circles on her hips, up her sides. And his lips wander to her neck, make her lean back to allow him more access.

“ _Her kiss tastes like strawberries. Her laugh lights up my darkest days. Her hands feel like the touch of life itself. Her lips are an ambrosia I could get drunk of every day for the rest of my life. Her eyes have starlight in them. When she whisper to me, I feel safe. In her arms, I feel home. Her body is a world, and I want to explore every single inch of it. I have never loved like I love her. She is the grandest miracle in my life. I believe in the Maker, because what other explanation is there for someone as… magnificent, wondrous, and beautiful as she?_ ” he whispers. Her heart sighs with every word leaving his lips. Yet before she can ask another kiss of him, he has hoisted her up onto the table and has her legs pulled around him. She stumbles back, holds on to his arms so she would not topple over. When he looks up to meet her gaze again, the shadow cast over his golden hazel eyes makes her shiver. His lips brush hers, and his eyes are fixed on her. One arm is wrapped around her, to hold her up, the other is travelling up on her inner thigh. She whimpers ever so lightly when his hand presses against her most intimate flesh through the fabric of her leggings. She gasps, he catches her lower lip with his teeth, runs his tongue over it. 

“Cullen…” she whispers, her voice shaking. His fingers press against her, stroke her, exquisite pressure on the hard pearl through her clothes. It makes her insides pull together, makes her heart race, makes heat fill her.

“ _Every minute of every day, I can’t help but think of her skin against mine. I think of parting that tunic she is wearing, I think about cupping her firm, beautiful breasts. I think about kissing them, about suckling her peaks. I think of the way she says my name when she is in pleasure. I think of going on my knees before her, her legs over my shoulders, having her wide open before me, letting my tongue roam over her flesh. I think about feasting on the sweet wetness between her thighs until she screams and begs, until she quivers and writhes under me because she can barely hold on to her sanity._ ”

Makers breath, she barely could. His words are husked breaths on her lips, and while he speaks, his hand slips into her leggings. He strokes her, and she can tell by how slick his touch is that she is already wet, urging for him to fill her up. Her legs tremble and she presses her hips towards him, fingernails dig into his shoulders. And when he plunges inside her with a finger, thrusting and curling it against her inner walls, she does cry out his name, just as she knows he wants her to. He smirks, leans his head to the side a little as he continues. His movements are slow, and all she wants is for him to rip her clothes off and fill her up, so strong is the need to feel him. All of him.

“Tell me. Tell me everything… please...” she whispers, pleads. He nibbles at her lips before granting her a single, long kiss. He pulls away again and drives a second finger to join the first one, making her cry out again.

“ _I think about pulling her against me, about feeling her skin against mine. I think about kissing her breathless, stifle her moans with my lips. I think about being inside of her, as deep as I can. I move in her, and her every breath is a prayer. And-_ ”

He pauses suddenly, and she is holding on to him, still as a statue. There are voices outside, approaching the library, and for several heartbeats they both contemplate whether or not they should postpone this. But when the voices are too close, there is no way out anymore. Cullen pulls his fingers from within her, causing a moan of protest to fall from her lips. He puts his other hand over her mouth, then pulls her off the table. They stumble into the shadows of the furthest corner of the library when the door is pushed open and the owners of these voices wander inside. Josephine and Leliana, laughing and chatting about life in Antiva and Orlais before the Breach. Ros peeks through the books, she can barely see the two women on the other end of the library, looking for a book there. And everything would be fine, if it were not for Cullen. He wraps his arm around her from behind and reaches down the front of her leggings to reach for her folds once more. It makes her jump against him. His other hand comes up to cover her mouth and her eyes flutter close when he begins fervently stroking and pinching her clit. _Maker have mercy!_

“Shhhhhh…” he whispers into her ear. She feels him shift behind her, then his hand leaves her sex, leaving her relieved and hopeful that he might have given up on that mischievous plan he seems to have made. But far from. She feels him tuck at her leggings and as they fall down to her knees, she feels his hardness against her rear.

“What by the Maker are you doing?!” she mouths, eyes widened in alarm. He puts a finger over her lips and she feels him press against her entrance. His tip teases her, and she grabs hold of the bookshelf and his arm. She looks back over her shoulder, tries to protest, but she cannot. Because he thrusts into her, and she is too busy not crying out his name. He pulls back painfully slow, makes her feel every inch of him while he nibbles at her earlobe. When he thrusts back into her again, her mouth opens in a silent moan and she stumbles forward, forehead leaning against the shelf. He picks up in his pace, deep thrusts burying him within her completely. She feels his hips press against her rear – careful not to make their skin slap and cause more noise than necessary. She tries her hardest to focus on the two women in the room with them, to make sure neither of them has caught their presence. They seem lost in their own chat, but also show no intention to leave anytime soon.

Cullen reaches for her chin, turns her to meet him in a heated kiss, keeping her from moaning. She barely notices the movement of the two women in the library anymore, all she can think, feel, or care about is him, his kiss, the sensation of being filled by him. But when they hear the door fall shut and the voices disappear down the hall, all caution flies out the window. Cullen hoists her leg up, knee pressed against the bookshelf, and reaches down between her legs. The simplest touch of her most sensitive bundle makes her finally release that cry of pleasure she has been holding in, her hand fists in his blond curls and his thrusts grow frantic as he is no longer holding back. He drives his length into her, hard and fast, his deep groans mix with her moans and cries. And it takes little more to send her over the edge on which she has been balancing for what seems like forever.

She is swept away by the pleasure, eyes closed, holding on to him in every way she can. Overwhelmed by the sensation, she is quite certain there is no ground beneath her feet. She has never felt so alive, so complete, so divine. He is right there, with her, pulls her lips to his again, his final thrusts ripple into her as he finds his release. They breathe together in shallow gasps as they ride out their climax together and it feels like the world has come to a halt around them, allowing them all eternity for this fulfilment.

When she comes down slowly, she feels her body tremble in his embrace, his arms locked around her firmly as they lean against the bookshelf. He kisses the nape of her neck and shoulder blade. She sighs.

“Maker… that was… something else…” she whispers out of breath, forehead resting against the shelf again. He slowly turns her to face him and his lips meet hers in a kiss so gentle she can scarcely believe the ferocious collision they have just experienced was real. He caresses her cheeks and smiles.

“We should do this more often.”

“Oh, we should! We _definitely_ should! Every day in fact. Twice. Or more. Like… yeah!” she declares, feels heat flush her cheeks. He laughs, bows down to kiss the tip of her nose before he nonchalantly pulls up his breeches and trousers and swaggers away, back to his journals. Ros stays hidden behind the shelf for a moment longer, trying to tame the violent blush in her cheeks. 


End file.
